Just a Typical Rehearsal
by Kaze-chan
Summary: **FINISHED** Exploding light boards, hair-dye fumes, bad accents, and a Narcissistic stage manager... just another day as they attempt (note the ATTEMPT) to rehearse for the upcoming school play~_~
1. How in the Hell Did THIS Happen?!

  
DISCLAIMER: I was having too much fun writing this to worry about the fact that I don't OWN it   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: It'll be come VERY apparent VERY fast that this was written by one incredibly insane techie (note: techie is the informal term we use for technician, you're gonna need to know that if you don't already ~_~) on a sugar-high no-sleep night RIGHT after being released from school. So it's strange.   
It's also very AU and very OOC. Their personalities are all extremely exaggerated, but hey, it's a humor fic, ne? ~_~   
The sad thing is I can actually picture most of this stuff happening at our rehearsals... maybe not all at ONE rehearsal, but we'd definitely do things like this. Drama people are very goofy ~_~ And we have so much fun being that way!   
  


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"Okay people, let's try and get this done quick so we can get on with rehearsal!" The faceless, nameless, personality-less director bellowed at the top of his lungs. Multiple heads craned his way from everywhere in the theatre, staring at him as if a flying saucer was crawling out his nose.   
"I MEAN IT!"   
Thuds and crashes and booms of all description were heard as everyone abandoned what they'd been sitting on (which was typically something far off the ground, they seemed to like heights) and ran in the general direction of the locked shop doors. Much chaos ensued until they figured out which one of them actually HAD the keys, at which point the poor person was shoved/pushed/squished/squeezed to the forefront of the group. Unfortunately, the poor person didn't know exactly which key opened the shop doors, so he was forced to try nearly all of them before they could be wrenched open, squeaky hinges protesting loudly and demanding oil.   
But that was a project for another day. Five or six of them took charge of the large bed that filled most of the doorway, pulling it carefully out so as not to damage the "authentic wood paneling" ($4.95 a sheet from Ace Hardware) and trudging with it up to the stage. Everyone else spilled into the now-clear door like water from a broken dam, filling the room quickly and passing things from person to person to get them out. Props (candlesticks, old clock, curtains, nightcap, pictures, books, old-fashioned pens, etc) crossed head over head over head as they were passed from hand to hand to hand along the human chain, being thrown onto the bed from a rather long distance away by the purple-haired person at the end. A commanding voice shouted for everyone to get out, they were moving the flats now. The older boy supervised a small crew as they carefully lifted the screwed-together flats, which formed a semblance of a wall (one even had a working door in it) and gave them directions to steer the wall out of the shop without cracking it down the middle and various other places. Boxes of screws, nails, hammers, drills, tape measures, duck tape, markers, rulers, levels, and the familiar rusted T-square made their appearance from the black cabinet that was exposed when the wall was moved. Someone found the bag of cornerblocks and keystones and tossed it out the door, landing on the brand-new wooden stage with many a resounding THWACK THUNK CHINK and earning several shouts from the director.   
Once everything was cleared from the shop, people settled down - a little. Everyone knew what job they had to do, where they had to be, and went there, anxious to get to the good stuff - the acting rehearsal. Well, the actors were, at least most of them, the techies weren't. The techies lived and breathed behind-the-scenes, and knew that once the acting part got underway they'd be kicked out along with their "noisy tools and dusty jobs" and would have to build from memory, never an easy thing.   
Tasuki didn't know how he'd gotten himself into this position. He was typically the tech director, running sound or lights from the booth and yelling at the others to tell them where to go and what to do. But this time… _THIS TIME…_   
It had all begun innocently enough, with a phone call from the director asking him to be at the auditions. That was fair, he would get a script there, like everyone else, so he could start planning tech stuff. But Tamahome, an Actor and one of his best buds, had also been there, sitting through boring audition after bad audition after frightening audition after way-too-perky audition (Nuriko), and in all their friendly mouthing off to each other Tama had somehow dared _him_ to get up there. At which point he'd refused, but Tama had wheedled and bargained and called him chicken and some other, more explicit words, and the director had yelled at them to know what all their shouting was about, at which point Tama'd said Tasuki wanted to audition. And it was too late, despite his choice words, to get him out of it, so he pretended and went up and read the stupid audition scene and left the stupid audition.   
And then the cast list was posted and he'd nearly died of fright. _HE GOT THE ******* LEAD!_   
At this point the nice lady in the school "clinic" got to know him very well, although they already had a long-standing relationship.   
He growled in his throat as he hammered a leg back on the bedside table, taking out his rage on the innocent, beat-up wood, _again_ vowing to kill Tamahome, slowly, veeeeeery slowly, over about two and a half months, as long as he'd be forced to suffer through rehearsals (they couldn't find anyone else and the director wouldn't take his resignation), in a dark, dank, water-dripping rat-infested torture-device-stocked no-food no-heat stone dungeon somewhere in one of those medieval castles all over Europe, a creepy and abandoned one - and make Tama pay for the plane tickets.   
"Tasuki-channnnnnnnnnnn!" Small body, long purple braid, sugar-high attitude, LANDING RIGHT ON HIS BACK.   
"GERROFF GERROFF GERROFF!" Tasuki threw himself backwards and flailed around madly, trying to dislodge the much smaller boy now clinging to his neck and not succeeding all that well. The other one was even _laughing_ as he made a fool of himself (again)! "GET THE **** OFFAME!"   
"Tasuki-chan, you're too high-strung! No _wonder_ mister faceless-nameless made you Scrooge!"   
"_GERROFF ME!!!_"   
Nuriko giggled and let go of the poor redhead, dropping easily to the floor and swiping his hat off his head in the process. Tasuki squawked with indignation as his favorite hat, his dark gray bucket hat with TECHIE sewn on the front and lit with little "lights", the only one big enough to contain all his hair, was snatched from him and plopped on Nuriko's head. The purple-haired boy grinned cheerfully at him and assumed a very over-exaggerated English accent. "Cheer up, Uncle Ebenezer! 'Christmas comes but once a year!' after all, and now 'tis the time!" He skipped off before Tasuki could manage to get himself untangled from the coils of ropes that he'd fallen on in shock.   
He finally got free and on his feet again, adding the no-longer-visible Nuriko to the List of People He Wanted to Kill Most at the Current Moment and finding his hammer again. His other hand automatically dipped into the small Styrofoam cup that held a meager collection of nails he'd scavenged from the stage floor and pulled one out, judging by feel that it was long enough. He was still fuming as he held the nail where it was supposed to drive in and raised the hammer to give it the first swift blow.   
Nuriko heard Tasuki's howl/scream of pain halfway across the theatre as clearly as if his friend was shouting in his ear, each and every school-inappropriate word echoing in the great acoustics.   
He giggled and squashed the hat further on his head before ducking around the flat-wall in search of something to do until he could convince Tasuki to actually _go over his lines like he needed to_. Hotohori was there, showing some new recruit how to set the A-frames on all the joined flats so they neither blocked the door, made the wall lean, made it fall flat over or flat back, and wouldn't be drilled into the next flat to be added. "He did it again, Hotohori-sama."   
"I know, I can- no, not that way, _this_ way." He quickly pushed the newbie out of the way before he could be squished beneath the falling flats and set the frame in the right place so the whole apparatus balanced once more. "See? You'd be one flat freshman if this thing fell on you now."   
_Oh, Hotohori-sama, you're so brave, so gallant, you even care about the puny little no-one-likes-them FRESHMEN!_   
"All right, now just remember to make sure the frames are all positioned this way before each rehearsal, or Tasuki's going to try and make you part of the set. Go see if there's anything else that needs to be done." The elegant stage manager turned as the tiny freshman scampered off, his long brown hair sweeping out behind him in an invisible wind that definitely had nothing to do with the central heating system. "Nuriko? Are you all right?" The other boy was staring at him adoringly, stars in his wide eyes.   
"Oh yes. I'm fine." _Please do that again please do that again please do that again please I WISH I WAS A WOMAN!_   
"Well… If you're sure, we don't need Fred coming down with whatever's going around now two weeks before the show…" Hotohori pressed the back of his hand against Nuriko's forehead, feeling for fever. And of course Nuriko almost swooned.   
Nuriko had often wondered just WHY Hotohori-sama wasn't one of the actors, but instead the stage manager. _I mean, c'mon, he's leading man material! Noble, charming, DEFINITELY good-looking, very kissable…_But there was just something about him that made people listen to him when he gave orders, so to a command post it was. It worked really well, he was also really organized, and as the stage manager keeps everyone from going insane when nothing goes according to plan this was an invaluable trait.   
"Well, you're not hot." Nuriko almost screamed when Hotohori moved his hand off his skin. "But go home straight after rehearsal, have some soup, drink a lot of water, and TRY to get eight hours of sleep. At home." Although _he_ never did it, Hotohori knew that for most high school students a good chunk of the "eight hours of sleep a day" came while in their most boring classes. "Have you seen Chichiri anywhere?"   
"I think Houki hauled him back into wardrobe, something about his jacket not fitting or something like that…"   
"Thanks." He swirled around and glided, not walked, but _glided_ to the rear of the stage, in the direction of the dressing rooms, unknowingly leaving behind one very lovestruck boy.   
He knocked politely on the door before entering, as good manners dictate. "Houki? Chichiri?" No answer. He stuck his head around the corner (built especially to prevent one from accidentally seeing "too much" when they opened the door) and saw a very strange sight. Chichiri was standing in the middle of the clothing-strewn floor, back and legs straight, arms held straight out to the sides and stiff as broom handles, with an open script gripped in his teeth, clearly trying to read the thing and failing miserably. Houki was holding the back of the cause of all the trouble, Chichiri's dull, worn, fairly authentic looking coat, her mouth full of pins. She was also trying to take in the rest of the fabric. "Um, Houki? Chichiri?"   
They both looked up, Chichiri almost whacking Houki in the head with his script, Houki nearly pushing the pin she was placing through Chichiri's skin. However, neither noticed the other's blunder, waiting to hear what Hotohori said.   
"Houki, when you're done, I'm going to need to borrow Chichiri for a minute, we need to find Miaka."   
"Mmmphnnmphn," Houki said concisely.   
"Hrphhphhn?" Chichiri asked clearly.   
Hotohori groaned and removed the script from Chichiri's teeth. The blue-haired boy made a "blech" noise and worked his mouth for a minute to get the taste of cheap ink and recycled paper out of it, then tried again, relaxing a bit. "Thanks Hotohori no da. Where'd Miaka go this time no da?"   
"mmmmmMMMMMMM!" Chichiri turned around to see clear blue eyes glaring at him over a mouthful of pins. He gulped and stood ramrod-straight again, holding his arms so stiff in the air they quivered. Houki made a satisfied noise in her throat, held up two fingers to Hotohori, and bent to work again. Hotohori waited, not quite _that_ willing to face the wrath of the Ever-Impressive Wardrobe Mistress, as Houki quickly and precisely put in the last two pins she needed. Then she carefully removed the remaining pins from her mouth and placed them on the table next to her, sighing heavily. "Chichiri, you're nothing but bone."   
"I know no da. But I'm not as bad as Nuriko na no da."   
"True, I could probably fit his clothes comfortably myself." She giggled at the thought of her "twin" and made a beckoning gesture. "You can drop 'em, come here."   
Chichiri let out a whoosh of relief and let his exhausted arms that now felt like they were made of lead fall to his sides, stepping in front of the full-length mirror as Mistress Houki indicated he should do. It fit fine now, not even the shoulders wrinkling as he moved his arms, cautiously so he didn't make the pins fall out and earn Houki's eternal wrath. "Can I go now no da?"   
"Just give me the coat." He willingly shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to her, and she reached for a hanger to put it on as he made his escape with Hotohori.   
"_Thank_ you Hotohori no da," he said enthusiastically as they picked their way over various construction projects currently covering the stage. "She had me in the pants next!"   
All the color drained from Hotohori's face at _that_ terrible thought. "Then you are very very _very_ welcome. I wouldn't wish that on anyone." Houki was great with clothes, but her aim with pins needed a _lot_ of practice. Most people found that out the hard way, and he'd had to deal with the aftereffects more than once.   
"So where is Miaka no da? Off with Tamahome again?"   
Hotohori's eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought of _his_ girl, the one he'd loved since he met her (although he conveniently forgot she didn't like him as more than a close friend) acting all snuggly-lovey-dovey with one of his best friends… Ohhh, he would pay someday, someday he'd make sure Tamahome got an hour with Houki and her pins in the most painful way possible…   
"Calm down Hotohori no da!" The stage manager was actually pretty frightening with that look of uncontrollable rage on his face, which made no sense to Chichiri since he'd _lost_ in the Race to Win Miaka and Tama'd won fair and square and Hotohori usually let it go if the other won fairly, and there was only one sure-fire way to calm him down. Chichiri calmly threw the monkey wrench in the works. "You'll ruin your complexion na no da."   
_He changes colors really quickly no da,_ Chichiri thought, amused, as Hotohori went stark white again out of fear and quickly covered his face with his arms until they were safely out of the theatre.   
There was a bank of snack machines just a ways down the hall from the multiple doors that led where they'd just come from, and a familiar voice was echoing down the tiled hall to them. "Give it to me! I paid for that! GIMME MY HERSHEY'S BAR!" The vending machine, already pounded enough during the regular school day, now bravely bore up under the full weight of Miaka's wrath as she tried to tear it to pieces and get at the sugar inside, refusing to give up its prize. Tamahome stood much further down the hall, hiding his face in his hands and trying to pretend he wasn't in anyway associated with the Amazon Queen on A Quest for Candy.   
Both Chichiri and Hotohori could now sympathize completely with him. Miaka in one of her food moods was the scariest thing in school. They crossed carefully behind her, staying well back to avoid being smacked in the face (it would be on accident, but it would still hurt) or somewhere else even more painful. Tamahome looked up as they approached, his eyes widening in very obvious gratefulness, thanking them for sacrificing themselves for him. The nodded silently back, faces full of sympathy, keeping quiet until they were right next to him.   
"I'm sorry, Tamahome." Hotohori actually meant it; there were times when even HE couldn't deal with Miaka.   
"I am too no da."   
"Seventy-five cents… just… _wasted,_" Tamahome cried softly in a long-suffering voice. "Just… _gone…_"   
Chichiri and Hotohori cast each other exasperated looks, if Chichiri could ever show exasperation, as Tama buried his head in his hands again and slowly shook it back and forth. Wasn't there supposed to be a _limit_ to his miserly ways? "And he wonders why he got cast as Marley…" Hotohori commented under his breath.   
"And then… Miaka goes off the deep end…! Whyyyyy? _Whyyyyyy?_"   
Chichiri looked at his tormented friend and gulped, but stepped forward bravely. "Miaka-chan…"   
"CHICHIRI!" She whirled at his voice, eyes wide and breathing heavily, a commanding look on her face. "GET ME MY CANDY BAR!"   
"Umm, Miaka-chan no da…"   
"You can always go to the bookkeeper and ask her for a refund," Hotohori gently remind Tamahome, who brightened up immediately at the thought of getting his money back.   
"What _is_ it Chichiri, I wanna go get my chocolate!" Miaka started to turn back to the machine, pulling back to hit it again.   
Chichiri quickly ran and grabbed her, dragging her away from the brutalized machine before she led it to an early grave. "Hotohori has something to tell you na no da! That's why we've been looking for you no da! And I'll give you the Skittles in my backpack if you listen to him!"   
"Skittles? Okay!" She smiled happily, the overly optimistic and cheerful Miaka once more now that she had food guaranteed to her. "What is it Hotohori?"   
"You and Chichiri need to work on your scene some, we've only got two weeks 'til we open." His heart ached when he saw her this cheerful, knowing She Would Never Be His. Oooh, Tamahome would paayyyy….   
She grinned and linked her arm through Chichiri's, nearly bouncing on tiptoe beside the much taller boy and talking in a bad accent that rivaled Nuriko's. "C'mon, husband o' mine! The Great Slave Driver who dictates our lives says we must practice, so practice we shall!"   
"I _still_ don't get why _I_ don't get to be Cratchett-"   
Tamahome was shut up with a good hard smack upside the head.   
  


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AUTHOR'S NOTES II: OK, I freely admit I let my theatre vocab run away with me. If you have no clue what something means, e-mail me at Kazeko_sama@yahoo.com and I'll try to explain ~_~ Ja ne! 


	2. Of Sparking Things and Lethal Sandals

  
DISCLAIMER: ~glomp~ MINE! -_-() Or not...   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Let us just say I have fun fiddling with everyone's personalities ~_~   
Yes, I know it's a bit late, but I'm having fun with this story.   
  


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Tasuki grumbled bitterly under his breath as Houki presented him with what he had to wear during most of the play - basically a nightgown and robe and stupid little nightcap with a tassel on it. "No complaining, this took me two DAYS to find," she glared while shaking the robe at him. "And at least you won't have to be seen only in that!" She pointed at the nightshirt. Even SHE was horrified by it. It was… It was… Old. REALLY Old. And looked it. And looked pretty bad on Tasuki, but it was the best she could do.   
He reluctantly grumbled his agreement to her statement, accepting the robe and quickly pulling it on and belting it over the nightshirt. Houki also tossed him a pair of old-fashioned slippers, but to her credit did not make him wear the nightcap. She gave him a look filled with sympathy as he left the dressing room.   
"Ahhhh, how cuuuuute Uncle Ebenezer!" Nuriko was waiting outside for his turn to get in what costume they had for him and clapped his hands - quietly, since Miaka and Chichiri were working on their scene onstage.   
"How much longer are ya gonna call me that ******* name?" Tasuki shot a murderous glare at his friend, who certainly wasn't ACTING very friendly.   
"As long as I feel like it." Nuriko gave him another perky grin and darted into the dressing room before Tasuki's punch could hit him.   
He, unlike Tasuki, enjoyed his costume. True, it _was_ a bit uncomfortable, but for awhile he got to pretend to be someone ELSE, a game he'd always liked. So he willingly submitted himself to Houki's fittings and various other things that most sane people would consider torture. He even helped her find clothes for the cast, having good fashion sense and knowing where to find cheap things.   
He grinned cheerfully at his "twin," who grinned back and threw him his clothing. "Thanks Houki-chan! HEY!" She snatched Tasuki's hat off his head, where it had been for awhile now, and put it on, grinning.   
"Nuri-chan, you're an ACTOR, not a TECHIE. You have no right to this. Now, change!"   
Pouting, Nuriko went around the corner into the main dressing room and obeyed her instructions.   
Backstage, Tasuki's neck was nearly broken when a hand emerging from the make-up room suddenly grabbed the back of his costume and jerked, _hard_. He fell backwards to slam into the door, looking up dazedly for whoeverthehellwoulddothattohim. When his vision cleared he could plainly see Soi standing there, hands on her hips and shaking her head at him. "Honestly Tasuki, you've got to be more on guard."   
"I don't try and kill _you_, so you don't try and kill _me_, got it?" He was _not_ having a good day.   
"Whatever. Look, come here, I've gotta ask you something." Tasuki pushed himself to his feet and followed her into the brightly-lit room lined with mirrors. He blinked rapidly as he went from almost-complete darkness into the glaring lights that tried to replicate the lighting quality on the stage. Soi was standing at the other end of the room, next to the large, multi-tiered make-up case that held all the things she'd use on every cast member. She was holding something in each of her hands, and he gradually came to realize what they were.   
A wig and a can of spray-on hair dye.   
"Oh ****," he muttered under his breath, anticipating what was coming next.   
"Which one do you want, dye or wig? Scrooge can't have your hair, flamehead." He growled under his breath, letting his fangs show juuuuust a little, trying to intimidate her. "Knock it off, I know you too well for that to scare me. Just make a choice, 'cause we have to get this stuff on you, _now_."   
He groaned loudly, but sat in the make-up chair and crossed his arms resignedly over his chest. She was one of the few women he actually respected, and he also knew very well what she could do to him if he gave her a hard time - and he preferred having all his limbs attached to his body. "Gimme the dye, those wigs HURT."   
"Smart choice. Hold your breath. And put this over your face." She tossed him a multi-color streaked towel, which appeared to have been white at some point in the past, but was now several different shades of gray, brown, red, yellow (supposedly blonde), and black. "If this stuff gets on your skin it's hell to get off, and it'll take off the dye on your hair a lot faster than the dye on your skin." He nodded quickly (he had no desire to be white) and wrapped the towel over his face.   
They nearly died of the smell of the dye, concentrated in one small room like that, and she had to use two cans to get it all through his thick hair, but they both agreed it was preferable to the wig. Soi could easily imagine the type of language that would interrupt the play if he had to wear it.   
They were trying to wave the rest of the dye particles floating around in the air towards the vent to hopefully get the smell _out of there_ when the door burst open and Tasuki's best friend flew in. "Bud, look, we gotta problem up there and- Holy ****."   
"Can't _either_ of you watch your mouths?"   
Tasuki ignored Soi's comment and Koji seemed to have not heard it, being too busy gaping at Tasuki. "Holy **** man, what've they _done_ to you?!"   
"Shut the **** up about it, just tell me what the hell the problem is." Soi gave up and went back to organizing her make-up.   
"The problem?"   
"What you came racin' in here to tell me about!"   
"Oh! Yeah! Well see, nothin's workin' on the soundboard, we think the wires got screwed up somehow, and you're the only who can fix it."   
Tasuki groaned, loudly. "Not AGAIN. ****, you guys should _know_ by now how to fix that!" Forgetting all about his costume and hair-job (which looked somewhat like a statue, as his hair was frozen in place with the dye, sticking up in random spikes like it normally did but none of them moving) he burst out of the make-up room and dashed expertly through the backstage area, then leapt down the steps and raced to the booth, Koji right behind him every step of the way.   
In the booth Mitsukake was sprawled on his back on the floor, most of his torso hidden under the strong shelf the sound and light boards sat on, fiddling with the wiring and trying to get it working again. Something sparked and he yelped, biting back a curse and shaking his right hand. "Koji? Did you find him? Hopefully?"   
"Yeah, I got him, and _wait_ 'til ya see him! OW!" Tasuki had just whacked him with his fist.   
"Move it Mits, lemme get under there." The very large man gratefully obeyed, pushing himself out and into a sitting position and looking a lot grayer. Then, the completely unexpected happened.   
His facial expression changed.   
His jaw slowly dropped open and his eyes widened as he saw the Ultimate Techie's get-up. "My god…"   
Koji, meanwhile, was having a very hard time trying to smother laughter.   
"CAN IT YOU TWO!" He dropped to the floor and crawled under the shelf, already reaching for the bundle of wires dangling from the soundboard.   
"Hey Granpa, won't Houki kill you for that?"   
"Mits, hit him for me, I'm a bit busy at the moment."   
"OW!"   
Meanwhile, back in wardrobe…   
Tomo had arrived, as was expected, late, again as was expected.   
And was complaining, as was expected.   
"But Houki, I _can't_ wear that!" He held the long, sweeping cloak and hood of the Ghost of Christmas Future in the tips of two fingers, as far away from himself as it could possibly get.   
Houki gave him her most dangerous glare, slowly crossing her arms, making him quiver while Nuriko (complacently happy in his Fred outfit) watched amusedly from a stool. _This is gonna be good…_   
"And just… _what,_" Houki said through clenched teeth, fighting to stay in control, "is _wrong_ with it?"   
Nuriko had to grudgingly applaud Tomo's courage as he stared at the small, purple-haired girl a good eight inches shorter than him but who seemed to tower over even Mitsukake in one of her moods. He wasn't backing down that easily. "I-I-I-It h-hides my m-make-up."   
_Three, two, one…_ Nuriko counted silently to himself and plugged his ears.   
Houki let out an ear-splitting scream.   
_I am too good.   
"IT'S SUPPOSED TO HIDE YOUR MAKE-UP!! IT'S SUPPOSED TO HIDE YOUR FACE!! THEY DON'T SEE YOU AT ALL!!"_   
A timid knock at the door broke through her rant, and brave, gallant, stupid Chichiri poked his head through the door, speaking around the corner. "H-H-H-H-Houki no da… I-I-Is there a p-problem na no da?"   
"Yes, with stupid idiots who won't do what they have to!" She was still raging, but at just above a normal volume now, and Nuriko considered taking his fingers out of his ears. "Tomo! Put that on, NOW!" She turned and stalked out of the dressing room, dragging poor Chichiri with her.   
Nuriko cautiously unplugged his ears and looked at Tomo. He was shaking with fright and looking about as glad to be alive as a man who's just escaped Jaws. "Do you think we should get her some Ritalin for Christmas?" Nuriko asked blandly, folding his hands together in his lap.   
Tomo nodded enthusiastically, still in silent shock.   
And as Hotohori _attempted_ to calm down an enraged Houki, and Nuriko struggled with helping the much taller Tomo into the very heavy robe, and Miaka and Chichiri rehearsed their lines on stage in half-costume (Chichiri was still wearing his sweatshirt), and Tasuki was getting grayer with dust as he fiddled with wires as Koji and Mitsukake laughed at his outfit, and Soi was making Tamahome greenish-gray, two figures camped out on one of the couches spread around the theatre (kindly donated by families of actors and techies past and present) managed to stop shaking in fear.   
"WOW. Wonder what set her off _that_ time," the female said, still a bit overwhelmed by the noise that had just gone ripping through the place.   
"Judging by what I _think_ she was saying as she screamed… Probably Tomo." The male was just as dazed as his companion.   
She nodded vigorously. "Sure sounded like it. 'Hide your face' and all that, couldn't really be anyone else…" She winced as she remembered she was after Tomo on the costume-receiving list. Final fittings never seemed to go well with Houki, she always managed to explode at someone. "Wish me luck, next time you see me might be at my funeral."   
He grinned evilly, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "I'll make a note to cry for you then." She playfully swatted at him, which he ducked. "I think someone's trying to calm her down though, you might just be severely maimed instead. There hasn't been any screaming since."   
"Then bring me flowers at the hospital." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and got to her feet, preparing to head into battle.   
And was unexpectedly pulled back to land on him.   
"Are you _sure_ you won't change your mind, Suba-chan?" Tokaki's look was completely serious.   
She groaned, loudly, immensely justified in the act. How many times did they have to go _through_ this before he understood?! "We're _two weeks_ from opening. I _want_ to play this part. I will _not_ actually be interacting with Tasuki, and I'm _not backing out!_" She whapped him in the side of the head. "Get it?"   
He rubbed the whapped area; she, like most of the women around the place, could be very violent when she wanted. "I just don't like the idea of _that_ idiot all over you."   
"Damnit Tokaki, _no one_ will be all over me! Everything in this play's family appropriate! And I'm acting with _Amiboshi_, for god's sakes! You _know_ he's too innocent to try anything! So _shut up_ about it!"   
What neither of them were aware of was that they could clearly be heard on stage, and Miaka and Chichiri were delightedly listening in on the latest in a series of "lover's quarrels" the two seemed to engage in nearly every day. Tokaki was clearly losing this one. Subaru wasn't stubborn to a fault for nothing.   
"But Suba-chan-"   
CRACK.   
Miaka and Chichiri glanced at each other. "Stray piece of wood." Miaka said.   
"Textbook no da." Chichiri shot back.   
"DAMN woman, why the hell'd you have to go and hit me with your _shoe?!_ That freakin' HURT!"   
"We both lose. What's the score?"   
"You've got eleven no da, I've got eight, with twenty-one neither na no da." Somehow Chichiri always remembered who won their little bets over what-did-Subaru-hit-Tokaki-with-this-time. At the end of the play whoever had the most was getting a free pair of movie tickets from the loser to the movie of their choosing.   
Subaru glared at her boyfriend, who was sometimes the most thickheaded stagehand you'd find on _any_ continent. "I've said this before. I am _going_ to play Belle. And you can't stop me." She dropped the sandal and it landed with a dull THUD on the floor, then pushed her foot back into it (she didn't want a screw or nail through her foot) and went back to wardrobe.   
Tokaki was left rubbing his head with a confused expression on his face. "What'd I do _this_ time?"   
Tasuki would've probably laughed at the scene, but at the moment he was fixing the last of the screwy wires. "That should do it. OK Koj, give it a try." Koji managed to settle down enough to flip on the power to the soundboard. He and Tasuki crowed with delight as it whirred to life again (Mitsukake permitted himself a small smile), displaying all the correct lights and gauge readings and nothing blew up. Koji tried hitting a few buttons, and suddenly the sound of carolers echoed through the house and stage. He quickly shut it off, then switched on the booth microphone. "It's fixed now, we're ready to go."   
They could see Miaka applauding onstage and Chichiri shooting them the thumbs up sign, then a ghost appeared right in front of them.   
"GAAAAHHHH!" Koji quickly did the only thing he could think of: he shot it one hell of an uppercut.   
Tasuki was lifted off his feet with a CRACK to rival Subaru and Tokaki's and dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Koji could only stare.   
Someone really needed to clean under that shelf. Tasuki had come out entirely gray, except for his hair which still retained the white dye and somehow made it dust-proof. All the way down from his neck to his torso the robe, which had been a sort of dark red, was now dark gray. His skin hadn't fared much better.   
"Damnit Koji, what'd I ever do to you?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. Even through the dust it was plain to see a nice bruise forming where Koji'd gotten him.   
"That's the _least_ of you're problems, Houki's gonna ******* kill ya for doin' that to her wardrobe." He held out a hand and hauled Tasuki to his feet, frantically attempting to brush the dust off his friend's robe. "I _told_ you she wouldn't like it."   
"YA! I look like a ******* _mouse!_" Tasuki cried, getting a good look at himself at last.   
"And this stuff ain't comin' off, it's stickin' to the fabric!" It was woefully true: whatever fabric the robe was made of (Koji could give less about things like that) was grabbing the dust tighter than Velcro. The first layer came off, but Tasuki was still very gray underneath.   
Tasuki scrubbed at his face and hands to get the stuff off his skin as Mitsukake searched for the best dust remover in the world: duck tape. But the search was futile, not a scrap was to be seen, must less the amount it was going to take to clean Tasuki. "Maybe they have some in wardrobe, we're fresh out." He held up an empty cardboard roll, the inside of which was plastered with the same Nashua logo repeated over and over, the only trace left of the shiny, silvery Wonder Tape.   
Tasuki groaned and ran through the list of places where he could possibly find some, or a whatever-the-hell those things were called, a clothes brush. He'd never needed one before in his life. Shop - out, he'd checked at the beginning of rehearsal. Booth - duh. House - if any was there, he'd never find it in the near dark. Stage - couldn't possibly get up there without being seen. Make-up - possibility, about his best one at this point. Wardrobe - ONLY as a last resort.   
He quickly made up his mind and steeled his courage. "All right, I'm gonna go see if Soi has any. Are you sure we don't even have _masking_ tape? Scotch tape? _Anything?_" He groaned again as Koji and Mitsukake both silently and grimly shook their heads. "Good god… we're goin' downhill, _fast_. Tomorrow we're gonna go stock up on this stuff. And then we're having a little fix-the-board lesson. Got that?" They both nodded solemnly. It would've been funny if Tasuki wasn't sure he was going to die in the next five minutes. He took a deep breath and slipped out of the booth, blessing the dark that gave him fairly good cover - at least he appeared to be all one color.   
Tamahome was sitting in the make-up chair and Soi was sponging what amounted to greenish-grayish war paint over every inch of skin that would be exposed by his costume (his face, neck, and halfway up his arms for good measure) when Tasuki burst in, panting frantically. The lighting in that room was much better than the booth and it was hard to miss the dust. "Soi, quick! Help me!"   
Soi could only stare in horror.   
"You're a dead man," Tama said simply.   
"Don't tell me what I already ******* _know_, HELP ME!"   
"Well what do you expect us to do?"   
"Have any tape handy?!"   
Soi shook her head morosely. "We don't use tape a lot here, just to label things like lipstick. We've never had to keep a roll here, although that might be a good idea if this is gonna happen again…"   
Tasuki let out a half-sigh, half-sob. "I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead…"   
"Who's dead?"   
Subaru was in the door, finally in costume (and unmaimed). As the beauty Scrooge was engaged to when he was younger, she certainly fit the part - and even in his certain dead-ness Tasuki had to grin wolfishly, which was what had gotten him in hot water with Tokaki in the first place.   
Subaru chose not to notice it this time in the face of a minor crisis. "I retract the question, you're _very_ dead." She stared grimly at his robe. The dust thing had happened before, but it hadn't mattered until now because he'd always been in his regular, beat-up clothes that could be easily brushed off. "Want me to go see if I can grab a clothes brush? I think I saw one in wardrobe."   
He nodded violently. "Hell yeah, PLEASE Subaru. I don't wanna be Scrooge, but I don't wanna be DEAD either."   
"I'll try, gimme a minute." She turned and carefully walked back to wardrobe (she still had to get used to the shoes), determined to complete her quest.   
  


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AUTHOR'S NOTES II: ~shrugs innocently~ What? I'm a Byakko girl at heart ~_~ 


	3. Nurfredko

  
DISCLAIMER: ~to the tune of "The Little Drummer Boy"~ I don't own this thing pa-rum-pa-pum-pum... And I can barely sing pa-rum-pa-pum-pum...   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, yes, I KNOW it's after the holidays. But I'm having fun ~_~ And I want to finish this before Valentine's Day.   
~is probably having a bit too MUCH fun with this story, hee hee hee~   
Now, go read!   
  


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"We are going to be so sick of carolers before this holiday is over," Subaru commented as she, Soi, and Tamahome attempted to get the dust off Tasuki's robe. There had been no clothes brush in wardrobe (she'd seen some funky slipper-thing) but there HAD been a roll of good old-fashioned duck tape. So they wrapped it sticky side out around their hands and basically padded it off the robe. The robe refused to give it up easily, however, but while it was slow going it was better than no going at all.   
Outside the make-up room Miaka and Chichiri barely winced as the carolers blasted in and out of the theatre. It was all expected after the soundboard crashed (as it tended to do once a week) and the booth people ran the usual tests. Only this time they had, instead of the usual Reel Big Fish burned CD, a bunch of juvenile carolers that seemed to be on a perkiness level with Nuriko and backed with psychotic xylophones. It was truly a painful combination. But with great fortitude (and a promise from Chichiri that afterwards he'd get Miaka something to eat) they withstood the awesome trial set before them by the Gods of Patience.   
That is, to say, until Miaka fell flat on her face on the stage for no apparent reason.   
Now this wasn't a very unusual occurrence, as it tended to happen at least once a week. But this time was different from most for two reasons.   
One: she was in full Mrs. Cratchett costume.   
Two: there actually WAS a reason.   
"Mrow," went a tiny voice as the owner poked its head out from under Miaka's rather frilly skirt.   
"Tama-neko! Tama, come back here! Oh no, they won't like it if you mess up rehearsal…" A small figure with light brown hair ran down the aisle, scrabbling frantically for the cat and nearly falling over a la Miaka. However, he had MUCH better balance and managed to stay on his feet, hopping up onto the stage and untangling the cat from Miaka's costume as she watched with a vacant expression on her face.   
"Chiriko, there you are no da!" Chichiri offered Miaka a hand up, which she gratefully accepted (although she nearly tread on Chiriko's hand in the process). "Where've you been na no da?"   
"At the vet's. Tama had an appointment and Mitsukake wanted to be here in case something blew up again."   
Chichiri sighed. "That was very wise of him, but you shouldn't have skipped rehearsal no da!"   
The very small boy put on his best Pitiful Face, making his eyes large and teary and turning out his bottom lip as if he was going to cry. He held Tama-neko up almost to Chichiri's face (he couldn't quite reach far enough to really get him to breathe fur). "I'm sorrrrry! It won't happen again! But would you have poor frightened Tama face that mean vet all alone?"   
Chichiri jumped back as Miaka snickered helplessly, nearly losing her balance again. "Eh-heh… no na no da. Okay… get Tama-neko out of here and go get changed, Houki expected you AWHILE ago no da… and what music do you want played at your funeral na no da?"   
"NOT THIS!" Chiriko shouted across the house at them, already running back to the car with Tama-neko.   
Chichiri duly made a note as the vaguely familiar voice of faceless-nameless rose out of the darkness. "Okay, back to work for a few minutes you two… and Chichiri, I don't think every line ends with 'no da'…"   
"Yes no da."   
Once Tasuki was dust-free (it took roughly fifteen minutes even with four people splitting the work) he and Subaru left the make-up room, where Soi was now draping Tamahome artfully with spray-painted chains, hoping against hope that Houki would NEVER find out about the Graying of Uncle Scrooge. She had a way of knowing these sorts of things. But no one was willing to risk their own necks or the neck of the only guy who (at the moment) could keep their sound system working to tell her. It would be… a painful endeavor. To say the least. They nearly walked into Tomo, who, with Nuriko's help, had managed to get into the robe and was now standing in the near-darkness, a potential traffic hazard. But thankfully Nuriko was standing next to him, listening to the rehearsal onstage, and he could fairly clearly be seen. Or, more precisely, his Fred-scarf could: it was a rather blinding white.   
He grinned at them as they attempted to blink and rub their eyes clear. "Suba-chan, you have awhile, he wants me and Scroogy next." Tasuki growled. Nuriko merely smacked him into a support pillar. "Tasuki-chan, you might wanna change, I don't think Scrooge goes to work in thaaaaat…" He deliberately drawled the last word, pointing at the nightshirt, robe, and slippers lazily.   
Tasuki, however, went as white as his hair, then winced as the carolers blasted at full volume for three point two seconds and were cut off in the middle of a lyric. "Oh ****, NOW I gotta go change in five seconds…"   
"What?" Tomo leaned over, cupping a hand to his ear.   
"I said I gotta go-"   
"I can't hear you Tasuki!" Subaru this time.   
"Oh DAMNIT KOJI!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.   
"Now _that_ I heard," Nuriko piped up.   
Tasuki groaned and made a "stay here" motion, then raced into the dressing room and began peeling off the robe and kicking off the slippers.   
Houki and Yui, who was playing the Ghost of Christmas Past, looked at him, looked at each other, looked at him again, looked at each other once more, nodded in sync, stepped to either side of him, and grabbed an arm each, stopping his frenzy. "GAH! LEGGOA ME!"   
"Tasuki, calm down! What's got you so insane?" Yui asked, a bit TOO calmly for his tastes.   
He mentally noted that Tokaki would've liked to be there as he'd caught them right in the middle of Yui's fitting, but his own mind was a bit too preoccupied to think about that at the moment. "Look, faceless-nameless wants me and Nuriko next! I gotta change!"   
"Gah!" Houki said in exasperation. "Does he freaking expect me to read his MIND over these costumes? Tasuki, go around the corner again, I'll bring you your clothes." Tasuki complied, a bit anxious. He wasn't worried that if the director found him not ready he'd take away the part (in fact if it would happen that way he'd deliberately never be ready). He was worried because if he wasn't ready he might make him do nothing BUT act. And once was MORE than enough for him.   
"Here, put these on." Houki's hand and a bit of her hair appeared around the cement block divider between what had been christened the "corner" and the main part of the dressing room, two hangers dangling from her fingers. On one was a shirt and jacket, on the other the pants to match the jacket. They were of a style that hadn't been worn in a century, but Tasuki grabbed them and hurriedly stripped, preferring to be in old clothes rather than old nightclothes. Thankfully they fit fine, and after a brief inspection by Houki he was turned free, running out of the room and nearly over Chiriko, who was coming for his Tiny Tim costume.   
Houki and Yui looked at each other again as he sped out and shook their heads together, in perfect sympathy with each other and Tasuki. They then proceeded with winding Yui in her sheet-like toga that would trail artfully behind her on stage. That is, if it didn't catch on any stray nails or screws…   
Koji thought it was a great irony, that the guy running sound this time barely ever talked. However, the guy who _usually_ ran sound (damnit Tamahome!) seemed to talk way too _much_. He was thinking of ways to meld them together to get the perfect medium when the door to the booth crashed open, spilling Suboshi into the room, the large stack of papers in his hands scattering every which way, one even landing in his hair. "Owwwww… remind me never to do that again…"   
"Consider yourself reminded." Koji hauled the smaller boy to his feet as Mitsukake kept running tests on the soundboard, although at a non-earsplitting level this time. "What the hell is all this?" He grabbed the thick paper from Suboshi's hair and scanned it. "'Everyone come for a fun-filled…' What the ****?"   
"Hey, it's the best I could do. Everything else I thought up wouldn't be approved by the administrators." He scrambled around, trying to claim every last piece of holly-green paper with red typing. "Where's Tasuki? I gotta get him to look at these."   
Koji snickered helplessly and pointed out the booth window at the stage where Tasuki (now in full old-fashioned costume) and Tokaki were (seemingly soundlessly, although they were both in reality VERY LOUD) shouting at insignificant stagehands about how to change the furniture from the Cratchett house to Scrooge's office and _not to bang any of it up because they had no replacements!_ Suboshi followed Koji's pointing and broke down in hysterical laughter, falling on the floor and scattering his papers again. "G… Good GOD! I NEVER thought I'd see the day! Never!" Mitsukake permitted himself another small smile.   
Koji once again gave him a hand up when they'd muffled their laughter to manageable proportions and helped him re-re-gather the flyers that would be posted all around the school and in sympathetic businesses. When next they looked up Yui, now fit in her costume (which looked a lot like a sheet), had joined the boys onstage until the rehearsal with Nuriko began, talking easily but apparently not noticing the somewhat-pointed looks Tokaki was giving her.   
Suboshi went as white as Tasuki's hair. "Wh-Wh-Wh-What's she _wearing?!_"   
Koji looked up and shrugged, not seeing anything wrong with it. "Her costume, I guess. You _do_ know what those are, don't ya?"   
"But that's… that's… that's so WRONG! NO ONE SHOULD SEE HER LIKE THAT! NO ONE SHOULD SEE MY YUI-SAMA LIKE THAT EXCEPT ME!" He was so busy raging he hadn't noticed Koji's new smirk or the flick of the "on" button he gave the booth's mic system, making every word uttered inside the booth broadcast material in the rest of the theatre. "ONLY MEEEEE!"   
"Yui, I think your boyfriend's ticked about your costume," he said in quite a casual tone, snickering to himself as Suboshi turned a new color: sickly green. "You might want to explain a few things to him." He quickly turned on the stage mic.   
"SUBOSHI! ARE YOU GOING AROUND TELLING PEOPLE YOU'RE MY BOYFRIEND?!"   
"Well, there goes people saying the stage mic never picks anything up…" Mitsukake muttered.   
"Y-Y-Y-Yui-s-sama, I-I… I… I…"   
"GET DOWN HERE!"   
He meekly slunk out of the booth as Koji whooped with laughter.   
Nuriko joined the other three onstage once the furniture movers were out of sight, watching amusedly as Suboshi crawled his way up to Yui's feet, kowtowed properly, and begged forgiveness, joining in Tasuki's and Tokaki's laughter. She bent down and grabbed his ear, dragging him (literally) out of the theatre into the lobby, his screeching about carpet burn on his face not seeming to reach her ears.   
"And next in tonight's dinner, masterfully prepared by Yui-chan, Roast Suboshi with a side of green beans and put-back potatoes," he said in his best cheesy cooking show voice, which was a good one because of his feminine register. "Who would like that instead of our other contestant's entry?"   
"All right, back to work, we have a lot to do." Hotohori was hovering around the end of the stage, script in hand, preparing to feed them lines if they got screwed up, which was inevitable in Tasuki's case. Tokaki saluted and skipped off, the black of his clothing blending in easily with the darkness in the wings but his hair standing out conspicuously. Well, that's what hats were for. The house lights were still out but the stage lights were on, throwing Hotohori's form in half-shadow. And of course, in Nuriko's eyes, that made him look even better.   
_Aaaaahhhhhhhhh, Hotohori-samaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod I sound like a demented fangirl but I do not careohmygooooooood!_   
Something clunked him in the head and he rubbed the clunked spot. "Stop droolin'," Tasuki muttered to him. "Ya gotta be _straight_ in this play."   
Nuriko wound up.   
SMASH CRASH CLANG THUD THWACK.   
"TASUKI! I'm gonna KILL ya if any of that's broken!" Tokaki ran out of the wings to inspect his beloved furniture and set, which Nuriko had just clobbered Tasuki into.   
"Myyyyyyyy heeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad," Tasuki moaned, absently trying to catch one of the little birdies flying around his skull. "Don't blame me, blame gay-boy over there!" He tried to point at Nuriko, but three were now glaring at him. He tilted his head in confusion. "Which 'uns real?"   
"Idiot," Nuriko muttered.   
Hotohori sighed heavily. "Just help him up, set up the things again, and let's get going, all right?" The mutely obeyed his directions, knowing they couldn't try and strangle each other if their hands were occupied with heavy furniture (most of which they left to Nuriko to set up again). Fortunately nothing had been broken, only one table was scratched, and Tokaki decided he could paint over the blemish and no one would be the wiser. He once again (mostly) vanished into the wings, watching for any more mishaps, and keeping a drill ready if anything short of Tasuki fell apart. But there he ran into Subaru, and… well, no need to go there. Let's just say his mind was not on the rehearsal.   
Much like Nuriko's. Tasuki wasn't helping much, he clearly hadn't studied his lines for awhile and Hotohori kept having to correct him. He actually wasn't that far off, but his mistakes were of the… Tasuki variety, and he needed to be broken of the habit. And of course, every time Hotohori would speak up, Nuriko would just gaze and gaze and gaze at the beautiful stage manager, his love, the most wonderful person in the world…   
"OI! NURIKO!"   
He stuttered back to reality and said his lines, which (of course, he wasn't Fangy) he knew easily and off the top of his head. Then Tasuki would say his next line, and more often than not Hotohori would have to correct him with a "Stop the swearing, Tasuki" or a "_Please_ try to use a _British_ accent" and Nuriko would just stare and stare and stare at this superb example of humanity, lovelier than any man or woman he knew (except himself, probably), with an excellent sense of humor, and…   
"OI! NURIKO!"   
Mind. Grip. Draaaaaaaaaaag… Speak. Wait. Hear.   
_Oh, Hotohori-sama…_   
"OI! NURIKO!"   
He sighed. He had to _concentrate_. They were just a bit over two weeks away from opening day, eleven rehearsals in all (unless there was a Saturday rehearsal called, which he wouldn't say there wasn't the possibility of), and while he knew his lines he wasn't perfect. He _wanted_ to be perfect. He wanted to do good and get even better roles after this. Maybe something angsty… now _that_ would be a challenge for him, but he could do it. And maybe Hotohori-sama could stage manage that one as well…   
Mind. Grip. Draaaaaaaaaaag…   
Hotohori was getting concerned. Something seemed to be making Nuriko always look at the house, where he sat virtually alone (except for faceless-nameless), but twist around as he might he couldn't see anything that would draw Nuriko's attention. Maybe the other boy had a muscle spasm or something… his mouth twisted into a frown. First that unusual flushing, now strange movements. If he _had_ to be sick, better be sick _now_ and get it over with. He'd take Nuriko straight home himself after rehearsal had ended and make sure he was put in bed, maybe with some hot soup.   
And if Nuriko had known Hotohori's plans…   
Tasuki rolled his eyes impatiently. Was Nuriko gonna behave like this _every damn day_? Yeah he'd known Nuriko was flipping over Hotohori for _years_ now, but _he'd always been able to control it, DAMNIT!_   
"OK, let's try going through the scene once, from Fred's entrance to his exit. Aaaaaannnd… Go."   
Nuriko had been given a plastic wreath by the prop guys which he was supposed to use to "spread holiday cheer in Scrooge's office," so he skipped his merry way in through the door in the wall-o'-flats, the end of his braid whipping around almost lethally, spread his arms and cried "A merry Christmas, Uncle!"   
"Bah!" Tasuki yelled, pretending to write in a big book (a _ledger_, the script called it, but it was still big and still a book). "Humbug!"   
Nuriko rolled his eyes. At least Tasuki'd gotten cast as someone close to his temperament, if not the same colorful vocabulary… "Christmas a humbug, uncle! You don't mean that, I am sure."   
"I do. What *******-"   
"_Tasuki…_"   
"What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."   
"Come then. What right have you to be dismal? What right have you to be morose? You're rich enough." Nuriko was having fun with his accent.   
"Bah!" Pause. "Humbug!" Tasuki was not. ****, he thought. _God or whatever's up there, get me out of this and I won't swear ever again!   
Yeah right, like THAT would ******* happen…_   
"Don't be cross, uncle!"   
CRASH.   
Nuriko yelped and jumped back into the wall (which fortunately didn't fall over on the poor stagehands behind it).   
One of the ellipsoidal lights had snapped out of its moorings at last.   
"KOJI!" Tasuki yelled, climbing over the desk instead of going around it like a sensible person, knocking over the chair on his way. "GET DOWN HERE!"   
"I'm comin'," the sound system replied.   
"My god, are you all right?!" Hotohori jumped onstage, having thrown his script away to who-knows-where when the thing had gone CRASH. The light had landed two feet from Nuriko, who was leaning against the wall, trembling, white as Yui's sheet-thing. Hotohori quickly ran to him and began inspecting him for injury, pulling a few shards of glass off his golf-cappish looking hat and somewhat-ratty jacket. "You're not hurt, are you?"   
"****, that was the one we were gonna take down tomorrow." Koji appeared onstage, carrying the broom and dustpan, the former of which he tossed to Tasuki. The two began to quickly sweep up glass and metal shards that had scattered across the brand-new hardwood stage floor, yelling at people to stay back until they were done.   
Nuriko squeaked and ran at Hotohori, throwing himself on the much taller, very startled boy and clinging to him as if he was a scared child. "Tha… That… That was so close! It almost _hit me!_ I could be _dead_ now!"   
Hotohori quickly hugged him tightly, reassuring him. "It's all right, it didn't hit you, and it won't happen again, I'll make sure of it."   
Nuriko grinned impishly into Hotohori's sweatshirt. _I'll get him yet! Oh. My. GOD! He's HOLDING meeeee!!! I'll get him yet!_   
Tasuki looked at his watch that he'd kept on under his costume and groaned. They still had an hour of torture left.   
  


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AUTHOR'S NOTES II: I wonder how Tokaki ended up getting my job. I'm a set con/stage crew person, although I direct and stage manage when I can. And having _Tokaki_ take my duty... strange.   
One serious note is that I'm not working with a copy of the play. I'm working with a copy of the original book, and it's been a few years since I've seen the play, so I'm trying to get everything as close to right as I can, but sorry if some things are off! ~_~   
Fun fact: duck tape (or duct tape, as it's more popularly known) really IS a great dust remover. I've used it on multiple occasions myself for that purpose. It's wonderful... ~hugs her duck tape to her with starry eyes~   
~skips off to find her script and resume her new stage manager duties for the Thespian Showcase~ 


	4. God Save Us, Everyone!

  
DISCLAIMER: ~carves it out in big letters twelve feet tall made entirely of cardboard, chicken wire, and duck tape (as any true techie would): "I DO NOT OWN FUSHIGI YUGI"~   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here comes the money (anyone who was ever involved in theatre can appreciate this): 

  
In is down, down is front   
Out is up, up is back   
Off is out, on is in   
And of course-   
Left is right and right is left   
A drop shouldn't and a   
Block and fall does neither   
A prop doesn't and   
A cove has no water   
Tripping is OK   
A running crew rarely gets anywhere   
A purchase line buys you nothing   
A trap will not catch anything   
A gridiron has nothing to do with football   
Strike is work (In fact a lot of work)   
And a green room, thank god, usually isn't   
Now that you're fully versed in Theatrical terms,   
Break a leg.   
But not really.   
  
Shuddup still means shuddup.

  
~_~ Just thought that might be amusing. I wish I could credit it to someone, but I can't find an author's name! Can someone tell me? ~got it from a girl in her Play Prod class~   
Last chapter! OK, just to clear something up: in this fic, Hotohori is _straight_. However, that doesn't mean Nuriko can't have massive crush on him! (~blink blink~ Kaze-chan? Writing something with shounen ai? ~faints dead of shock~) Anyway, about the shounen ai, it's so miniscule and only takes place in one character's mind that I didn't really think it was worth documenting.   
I am soooo hyped up on Runts (pure sugar!) and no school tomorrow! For once I get to sleep past seven! Sleeping TILL seven happens rarely enough, past it is almost never heard of. Gods, I'm SO exhausted at the end of a normal work... Why am I rambling like this? Last chapter! Read!   
(By the way, if you see any typos, please let me know so I can fix them!)   
  


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"Six o'clock! Quitting time everybody!"   
A chorus of cheers erupted throughout the theatre as people whooped with delight at Hotohori's announcement, Tasuki's enthusiastic curses probably the loudest among them. The temporarily white haired high schooler took off at his highest speed for Houki's domain, beating even Yui, who was right next to the door. He grabbed the handle, turned the knob, and-   
"All actors to the stage! IN COSTUME!"   
Loud, loud, LOUD groans.   
Tasuki sighed, pushing back the suddenly overwhelming urge to bawl his eyes out or possibly throw a tantrum, and trudged back through the maze of curtains that blocked the backstage from every possible angle to stand on the lip of the stage. All the rest, from Subaru to Miaka to Tamahome, trickled after him, forming a long line to his right and left. Hotohori was standing a few feet from the stage, Houki by his side, the director right behind them. The stage manager and costume mistress gestured at the actors and spoke quietly to each other, ignoring the one who was supposed to have the authority but had no idea what his job was.   
"What the hell's goin' on?" he muttered to Chichiri, who was directly to his left.   
"Hotohori's approving the costumes no da. He's seeing if we look good in them, if they fit our characters, all of that na no da."   
Tasuki groaned. Couldn't they freakin' do this _without_ him?!   
"Don't worry Tasuki," Amiboshi, on his right, muttered. "This is the only time we have to do this." The shorter boy hid a mischievous grin. "Although I think we're gonna have to wear them in every rehearsal from here on in…"   
He was rewarded by Tasuki's enthusiastic muttered, scathing curses.   
Everyone wanted to go home. Most had homework to do, and more than one had a paper to work on, or some other big project. The techies were quickly cleaning up their tools and putting away set pieces while the actors were surveyed, Tokaki yelling at people in the shop about where to put things away so they could be found again. Every so often wonderfully sarcastic phrases such as "Do you even know we _have_ an organizational system in place here?" drifted out the open shop door, making Tasuki grin maliciously. Freshmen and other newcomers might be frightened of the guy, but he got the job done right.   
Nuriko was delighted. He didn't know _how_ it had happened, but Hotohori had been fussing over him for the past hour! And he had shamelessly played up to expectations, pretending to feel faint much longer than he normally would have, nearly swooning once or twice, anything he could think of. And it had _wooooooooorked!_ Hotohori was _TAKING HIM HOME! He'd BE IN NURIKO'S HOUSE!_ And he'd never be allowed to get away, hee hee hee…   
Soi wandered out of the makeup room and down the short staircase on stage right, ambling over to Hotohori and Houki. She needed to study the costumes as well, make sure they went with her makeup. She absently stood listening to the other two talk as she surveyed the cast, most of which were fidgeting uncontrollably to _get out of there_ and go home. "Hey Tasuki, Tamahome, c'mere," she called suddenly.   
The two in question threw her grateful looks and jumped off the stage, landing with the ease of much practice on the house floor and approaching her. "What is it Soi?" Tamahome inquired.   
"Just want to give you some useful tips on that stuff." She gestured at Tasuki's hair and Tama's skin. "Tasuki, when you get home, brush out your hair really well. That'll take care of most of the dye, and then take a really good shower. It'll come out easily. Just remember to use shampoo this time." She grinned mischievously at him as he threw her a "duh" look. "And Tama, stick around after rehearsal, I'll show you how to get that stuff off. It's a bit more complicated than washing your face." Tamahome nodded in acquiescence and climbed back on the stage, reclaiming his place by Miaka.   
Tasuki waited until Tama was a discreet distance away before voicing a rather urgent question in a fierce whisper. "Look, do I have to ******* do this every ******* day?!" He gestured expressively at his hair, forcing Soi to hide a laugh. "What's so ******* funny?!"   
"You, you idiot. No, you don't have to do that until the last dress rehearsal and of course the performance. Costume yes, hair no. Is that OK? Wait, don't answer that, you don't have a choice!"   
Tasuki was just about ready to rip that sweet, innocent look off her face. Instead he clomped back onto the stage and stood there until the others finished discussing The Most Torturous Clothing in the World.   
Finally, finally, AT LAST Hotohori and Houki nodded and Hotohori turned to the stage. "All right, you're free to go." His last words were drowned out in the stampede of feet to the dressing room. However, one small figure hung back, sitting down in a frail manner on the edge of the stage, folding in on itself. The slight figure could only be one person, as his "twin" was currently behind the stage manager, still taking to Soi. Hotohori frowned again; Nuriko's health was very bad today, something new must have happened to have robbed the normally exuberant boy of all his energy and spirit. It just wasn't _normal…_ and it was his Sacred Duty, as stage manager, to get to the bottom of it. He left the girls discussing and slowly approached the stage, trying not to startle him.   
Nuriko watched him come out of the corner of his eye, hiding an almost maniacal grin and _barely_ managing to smother gleeful laughter. It was working it was working it was wooooooorkiiiiiing! YA-HAH! He smooshed his glee for the moment and turned to Hotohori, displaying a tired but persevering, sweet smile. "Oh, hello…"   
"Nuriko, are you all right? You're not yourself today…"   
He coughed slightly, doing his best to build up a convincing front (he was an actor, after all) and smiled again. "Yeah, I just caught Kourin's cold, that's all…" He was _incredibly_ lucky that his sister had the tendency to catch whatever was going around the school. At that moment, she was probably at home, curled up under her comforter, coughing her lungs out. She'd be fine of course, like she always was (she seemed to have amazing recuperative powers) but it gave him very detailed insight into _exactly_ what the symptoms were for a variety of maladies. He could probably get out of school any time he wished himself. Not that he'd ever do that of course! Only sometimes when there might just possibly be a paper due or something like that…   
Hotohori frowned. "Now that's not good…"   
"Don't worry, I'll be fine, I'm just a little tired. You already said you'd take me home-" even though it occasionally worked in his favor, Nuriko still mentally cursed his inconvenient car-less existence "-you don't have to do anything else."   
"Well, at least you're not sick opening week." Hotohori started to turn back to Houki and Soi.   
"Yeah, that would be annoying…" It was failing, he was acting too good, Hotohori was beginning to _believe_ him! He wasn't supposed to believe he was all right, he was supposed to believe he was in horrible horrible shape! Time for drastic measures. He lay back slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead.   
"Nuriko?" Hotohori looked back when no other sound came from the smaller boy, and he gasped in shock. "My god! Are you all right?!"   
_Yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!_ "Yeah… just a bit… dizzy."   
"Don't worry, it's all right, you'll be fine!"   
Soi watched with mouth wiiiiiiide open. Having a crush, sure, fine, all well and good, but _going to this extent?!_ Sometimes she questioned whether Nuriko had any shame.   
Houki growled in her throat and started towards the boy on stage, but Soi (much taller and much stronger) grabbed her around the waist and bodily lifted her off the floor, marching as quickly as she could up the aisle to the back of the theatre, Houki thrashing and vengefully hissing protests and threats on Nuriko all the way. Soi dropped her in the small sort of lobby area next to the doors (just an area where there was a bit of open floor) and physically held her down by pressing _hard_ on her shoulders to keep her from going down and strangling Nuriko without any ceremony. If it was up to her, there would be a trumpet fanfare and banners and flags and an executioner, but they were too poor to afford it so there would be no killing of an actor. "Houki! Listen to me!" she hissed. "I know you want to strangle him! But you can't! We need him to act! Strangle him after closing night."   
"He better get away from _my_ Hotohori before then or… or Scrooge'll have no family left! He better! I'll stick 'im full of pins!"   
"Sure, just _after_ we're done with him."   
Tomo emerged from the dressing room (having neatly arranged his robe on a hanger, just as Houki would want him to) and paused in the darkness to watch the minor drama unfolding on the stage. He snorted quietly. Why, of all days, had Nuriko picked today to start his Get Hotohori Forever campaign? It wasn't like Hotohori didn't have a girlfriend. Or was even gay. Which he wasn't, but try making Nuriko listen to reason sometimes. The guy definitely had selective hearing.   
He returned to trying to figure out a way to alter his costume so it prominently displayed his makeup. He thought the colorful makeup would actually lend a lot to his costume, make the Ghost of Christmas Future look a lot more strange and twisted than had ever been accomplished before-   
Hello floor.   
He was suddenly face down on the dark, scratched wood flooring, a place he'd thought he'd never be and didn't want to be at any time. He tried getting his breath back, but it had exploded out of him with that first collision, then the rest trampled out when two more sets of feet ran right over him as if he was a speed bump.   
"Sorry Tomo!" a quickly-retreating voice called, and he managed to weakly raise his head to see Miaka, Subaru, and Amiboshi (all now back in their regular clothing), ignoring the rather-ridiculous looking sort of silhouette of Hotohori and Nuriko, leap off the front of the stage and into the house. They raced midway up and turned suddenly in at a certain row, nearly colliding with each other as they abruptly stopped. Miaka's head disappeared for a moment as she bent over, then reappeared as she straightened triumphantly with a small package in hand. Tomo could barely make out the red plastic-paper before she was jumped on by Subaru and Amiboshi, each demanding their share.   
The door next to him opened again, much more sedately this time, and a calm pair of feet approached him. A hand was extended into his field of vision and he gratefully gripped it, using it to haul himself to his feet as the owner of the hand also pulled him up. "I feel your pain no da." Chichiri was once again wearing his jeans and sweatshirt, and he watched the minor brawl in the house with a "poor them" expression on his face. "I told Miaka earlier that she could have my Skittles na no da, and when I told her where they were Subaru and Amiboshi overheard and well…"   
"It's all right," Tomo wheezed. He nearly had his breath back. "It's not your fault they're uncontrollable around sugar."   
"I guess they trampled you no da?"   
"How'd you know?"   
"Hey, have you two seen Subaru? Is she done yet?" Tokaki ran up to them, having finished his triumphant smirking over being in charge of so many easily manipulated freshmen (and also having finished his supervision of clean up). "I wanna get going, the movie's starting soon."   
"What are you going to see no da?" Chichiri asked.   
Tokaki shrugged. "I don't know, she's picking it. Might be one of those chick flicks."   
"I thought you hated those no da…"   
Tokaki grinned lecherously. "I do, but it'll be dark and probably not crowded…"   
Tomo groaned. "I did NOT need that mental picture…"   
"So, anyway, where is she?" He clapped his hands together, looking around for his girlfriend.   
Chichiri solemnly pointed out at the house, where she and Amiboshi were currently struggling for possession of the package while Miaka stood on a chair and refereed, happily chewing her processed sugar.   
Tokaki groaned.   
"I know no da…"   
Tasuki came out next, ignoring everything and racing up to the booth, jumping over the random things in his way (like Hotohori and Nuriko). He pulled the door open with a crash and dashed inside, quickly inhaling the comforting smell of lots of cardboard and the general feel of electricity. Even though they were technically in the same room, the stage and the booth had completely different feels and smells and could be at times different dimensions. He _definitely_ did not like acting.   
"So, how's mister ghost-man?" Koji called as he finished shutting down the light board and putting away various things.   
"A lot better now that I'm outta those ******* things. Damnit, why couldn't they have picked somethin' modern?!" He groaned loudly, clearly demonstrating his animosity for everything Dickensian. He could live with the hair (if he didn't die from inhaling the fumes); in fact, when he had it brushed so it wasn't a stiff statue, and was in his typical clothing (baggy everything with a black leather jacket on top), he actually thought it looked kinda cool. Sort of rebel-like, in a way. Maybe he'd convince Soi to do it before school one day so he could freak out his teachers. But the costume… and the rest of the makeup… they should be taken to an incinerator and left there. "So, how'd everythin' go today? Give me some feedback, tell me what I gotta fix."   
"Aside from that damn light, things went pretty well. One short that we fixed, and the board again, but you fixed that so we should be okay until next week." Koji tossed off the list nonchalantly, used to Tasuki always asking for a review.   
"And I'm bringing a new CD so we don't die from torture," Mits muttered under his breath. "Whoever brought that one in the first place?"   
"I don't know, but I wanna kill 'em. Wanna help?"   
The door crashed open again. "Tasuki! You're here! Good! Look, take a look at these and tell me if they're all right, if they are then tomorrow I'll grab some people and start posting 'em." Suboshi rushed up and shoved the stack of holly-green paper quickly at him, looking like an over-eager puppy.   
Tasuki took a careful step back from the enthusiastic publicist before inspecting the flyer. He mumbled something and nodded a bit, then placed the flyers back in Suboshi's hands. "Sure, they look fine. I just wish the administration would lighten up and let us put somethin' _interesting_ on 'em for once…"   
"I know, but they're too conservative. Hell, we had trouble getting one curse word past them in the one-act; they're definitely not gonna let us be 'original' on the flyers. But I can start posting them?"   
He nodded. "Sure, go ahead. More time people have to notice 'em, more likely they are to come; more that come, more money we get."   
"Exactly!" Suboshi rushed out the door in a flurry of paper.   
Mitsukake was looking at Tasuki strangely. "I thought you didn't want this one to be heavily publicized…"   
Tasuki sighed heavily, forcing himself to ignore Koji's smirks. "I don't, but we need the money pretty ******* desperately, especially if there's no duck tape to be found anywhere but the dressin' room. Speakin' of which, I'm draggin' you two to Home Depot tonight to help fix that oversight."   
Koji and Mits nodded, both knowing that with Tasuki as their ride, reckless and scary driver as he was, they really didn't have a choice.   
Back in the house, Miaka finally ruled in favor of Amiboshi and ended the tussle. Amiboshi yelled triumphantly and ran to collect his brother, Yui, and their stuff so they could go home, gulping the Skittles as he did so.   
Subaru gave Miaka a very Deliberate Look. "Why'd you do that?"   
"Because you're going to the movies tonight." Miaka just smiled sweetly as Subaru demanded to know what the hell that meant and hopped off the chair, racing back up the aisle to the stage (Subaru hot on her heels) and backstage. "Tamahomeeeeeeeee!" She pushed open the door to the makeup room, frightening Soi and Tamahome, who had removed about half of the green stuff from his face with special cleanser. Subaru skidded to a stop just before she crashed headlong into Miaka, catching sight of Tama over her head, and bursting out laughing.   
"Hey, this is _not_ a picnic to get off you know," Tamahome grumbled, going back to swiping at his hands with cotton pads as Soi attacked his face again.   
"Of course not, but you look ridiculous!"   
"Subaruuuuu…"   
"I'm allowed to be truthful!"   
"There you are!" Tokaki swooped down and wrapped an arm around Subaru's waist, grinning at her. "Ready to go?"   
"Take a look at Tama-chan, he looks ridiculous, right?"   
Tokaki glanced over obliviously, but double-taked to stare at him. "My god, she's right…"   
"HEY!"   
She grinned proudly. "See! I was right! Come on, let's go before all the tickets are sold." She grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt and dragged him away. Miaka waved at their wake.   
"Soi, are we leaving?" Tomo poked his head around the door. "We've got those papers for Lit to worry about, remember?"   
"Yeah yeah, just give me a minute." Soi frowned in concentration as she scrubbed at Tamahome's forehead. "I've just gotta get him un-green… Damn, it shouldn't be _this_ hard to get off…"   
"It's not coming off?!" Tama jerked back in alarm.   
"Well, it won't if you won't stay still!" She yanked him back to where she needed him and kept scrubbing.   
"Soiiiiiiii! Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaasse let me kill hiiiiiiiiim!" Houki slipped in through a gap in the door and grabbed the taller girl's hand, a crazed/pleading look plastered on her face. "Please please please please PLEASE!"   
Soi groaned and gave up on de-greening Tama for the night. "I thought he would have been the last male you'd kill…"   
"_Not when he's doing what he's doing!_"   
"What's he doing?"   
"Who's 'he'?" Miaka piped up.   
"Loooooooook!"   
"Houki! Come on, we're going!" Hotohori's voice rang through the theatre, echoing nicely in the acoustics. All four of them (Soi, Miaka, Tamahome, and Tomo) peered out to see what exactly was making Houki so irate, and as one their jaws dropped.   
For some strange, inexplicable reason, Hotohori was literally… holding Nuriko. No kidding. He'd easily picked up the smaller boy, who had seemed too weak to walk, and was going to carry him to his car.   
Soi opened her mouth to try and speak, but closed it again, then tried once more, but her voice emerged as a squeak. She quickly swallowed and gave it another shot. "Y-Yes Houki, I think you can kill him now…"   
"Come on Houki, I have to take you home first today, I'm sorry," Hotohori called. "Nuriko isn't feeling well, I have to make sure he's all right."   
Chichiri wandered up, remembering his promise to Miaka earlier and wanting to get it over with while he actually had money (in other words, ASAP). "Miaka-chan, where do you want to eat no da?"   
"Soi, can I go home with you?"   
Soi nodded wordlessly.   
"Go on ahead without me, I'm going to help Soi for awhile!"   
No one (except Hotohori) missed Nuriko's victorious grin as they left the theatre.   
  


~~~FINAL CURTAIN ~_~()~~~

  


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AUTHOR'S NOTES II: Raise your hands if you have actually experienced any of this! ~_~ I KNOW I missed my self-imposed deadline for finishing this thing, but as I was considering not finishing it AT ALL this is actually good. May the Theatre God grant you much duck tape in your future!   


Kaze-chan's Final Thoughts ~_~

  
Unofficial Official Soundtrack: Otome Ranman, by Sakamoto Chika-san (Nuriko's seiyuu!) because it's so upbeat and perky and happy! ~_~   
Kaze-chan's Favorite Line: This is a REALLY HARD one, but it's probably "DAMN woman, why the hell'd you have to go and hit me with your _shoe?!_" - Tokaki to Subaru, in chapter 2. What was _your_ favorite line? ~_~   



End file.
